


favorite color?

by rarepairenabler



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, coping methods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6500602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairenabler/pseuds/rarepairenabler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"whenever I’ve had a particularly bad day my friend will ask me what my favorite color is because he knows that looking for the exact photo of the color will distract me from whatever shitty thing happened that day."</p>
            </blockquote>





	favorite color?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I wrote this a few weeks ago but I'm still happy with it? So I'm moving it from tumblr to ao3, please be gentle.
> 
> I saw [this post](http://ezzydean.tumblr.com/post/141219657954/hhadess-whenever-ive-had-a-particularly-bad) and I had to write a thing

The first time it happens, Bokuto’s hands are fisting in his hair, his breathing turning ragged and labored as he thinks about that day’s practice, about every ball he let hid the floor with a loud thud, about each time he went in for a spike only to have the ball bounce back off the net. Bokuto thinks about the disgruntled, annoyed glances his new teammates exchanged when Bokuto slipped into one of his bad moods, when he became too frustrated and riled up to be any use to them.

His eyes sting from crying and his chest hurts like it’s been crushed by some invisible weight as he grips his phone tightly in his hand.

Bokuto hasn’t responded to Akaashi’s texts in a while and the other boy must sense that Bokuto’s distress because the next text he sends is

 **[To Bokuto]:**  
rough day?

Bokuto sends back a long string of frowning emoticons. If Akaashi was with him, he’d know what to do. His chest aches at the thought and he pulls his pillow over his face to groan into it when suddenly his phone chimes again.

 **[To Bokuto]:**  
what’s your favorite color, Bokuto-san?

Bokuto’s eyebrows furrow as he frowns down at his phone in confusion. Why would Akaashi ask him something like that? Maybe it’s for a project. Maybe his favorite kouhai is simply curious about the magnificent ace that played alongside him for years. Bokuto smiles a little at that. Regardless, Bokuto needs to come up with an answer that’ll satisfy him.

What is his favorite color, anyway?

Bokuto looks through all the photos on his phone until he finds a picture he’d taken on the day of his graduation, the clear sky a soft blue and bubblegum pink. By the time he’s sent it to Akaashi, Bokuto feels lighter, his head’s no longer throbbing, his breath now coming out steady and even as he smiles down at his phone.

 **[To Bokuto]:**  
that’s pretty

Bokuto preens at the approval and doesn’t think further on the strange request as he finally lets himself drift asleep.

~*~

It becomes a Thing.

On Tuesday when Bokuto gets anxious about how he’ll do on his test, Akaashi asks him again what is favorite color is. Bokuto sends a picture of a neon glow in-the-dark t-shirt, the colors vibrant and fluorescent in a way Bokuto appreciates. Akaashi sends him back a thumb’s up emoticon an hour later and for the rest of the afternoon he’s forgotten about his panic, too distracted by thoughts of collecting pictures to show Akaashi. On Friday when Bokuto gets into a fight with his new roommate, Akaashi asks again and Bokuto sends him a picture of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

~*~

Bokuto’s saved a picture of light pink cherry blossoms he spotted on the way to school; a picture of the tan wood of the volleyball court with white lines etched across it; a picture of an owl, its golden feathers streaked with thick black stripes. There’s an entire album on Bokuto’s phone dedicated to his favorite color before he realizes that Akaashi’s been deliberately trying to take his mind off things, that he’s been supporting Bokuto even now that they’re not on the same team.

This time when Akaashi asks Bokuto’s favorite color, Bokuto doesn’t send him any of the photos he has saved.

What is my favorite color really? Bokuto thinks desperately as he rakes his fingers through his hair.

It’s the pale halo that illuminated Akaashi’s hair, bathing the subtly tousled waves of Akaashi hair in light whenever they’d walk home together at sunrise.

No, that’s not right.

It’s the pink of Akaashi’s mouth, the curve of it always drawing Bokuto’s attention whenever Akaashi drags his tongue across his bottom lip in concentration, leaving Bokuto to imagine what it would be like to kiss Akaashi until those same lips are flushed red and swollen.

No, that’s not—

 **[To Bokuto]:**  
color?

Bokuto stares down at the text again as he sucks on the inside of his cheek. He searches through his pictures again until he finds it, a picture of Akaashi, the other boy’s eyes wide with surprise from the picture being taken when he was caught off-guard. In the picture, his eyes are dark grey but there are other times too, times when his eyes are charcoal black, or steely green, each shade as stunning as the next.

Bokuto gulps and sends the picture, this time captioning it, ‘ur eyes.’

His heart pounds in his throat, each second that ticks by since he sent it dragging its heels as he waits for a response. Bokuto knows that this whole exercise is supposed to be about calming him, about taking his mind off things and it terrifies him to think that Akaashi might be pissed at him for breaking some unspoken rule but he can’t not tell Akaashi how he feels anymore. Akaashi, who is his anchor, his solid ground, his lifeline. Akaashi, whose eyes are constantly changing, each shade Bokuto’s favorite color.

His phone rings and Bokuto’s tempted just to let it ring but eventually he sighs and picks up on the third ring.

“Bokuto-san?” There’s a short pause. “Are you—was that—are you flirting with me?”

Akaashi sounds half confused and half disbelieving.

Of course Akaashi would get straight to the point. Bokuto winces and fidgets anxiously, his fingers tugging on the sleeve of his shirt as he waits for Akaashi’s swift rejection.

“Bokuto-san? Are you there?”

Bokuto takes a deep breath. “No! I mean yes. But not in skeevy way, because that’s not how I feel, not that I don’t find you attractive! Just that it’s more than that. I like you, Keiji, like really like you. Like I want to have skype dates and visit you on the weekends and spend a whole day holding your hand just because I can and I want—”

“Bokuto-san—“

“and I understand if you don’t want that, though! Because, really, who would want to be the poor guy dating the dude who goes through constant mood swings so it’s fine if that’s not how you feel but I needed you to know because it’s _killing_ me—”

“Yellow.” 

Bokuto opens his mouth and then shuts it again. He must have missed something incredibly important during his rambling. “Huh?”

“My favorite color,” Akaashi explains. “Like the sun, or the undertones of our high school volleyball uniforms…but also like the color of your eyes.” His words come out slow and hesitant but sincere and Bokuto hangs onto each one like his life depends on it.

“Are you saying…?” Something a lot like hope swells in his chest but it sounds too good, too perfect to be true.

Akaashi laughs quietly on the other end the line and Bokuto decides that that sound’s his favorite. “I like you too, Bokuto-san.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://www.tobioslilgiant.tumblr.com) **l** [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/ambyguity_)


End file.
